


Dress

by Raven (singlecrow)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlecrow/pseuds/Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How do you know I'm not married?" Julian asks, playfully, then realises he's answered his own question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress

With all the alacrity of a starship going to warp, Worf brings his heels together neatly and says, “Permission to be excused, sir.”

"Granted, Lieutenant." Sisko grins. "And that’s it for excusing my senior staff, so the rest of you, go replicate clean dress uniforms. I know you’re about to remind me you’re a non-com, Chief Petty Officer O’Brien. Close your mouth and go shave."

Kira, Julian and Miles file out of Ops, muttering various things too quietly to be heard when Sisko says, “Lieutenant Worf. I should have mentioned that my officers’ invitations to the ambassadors’ dinner include their partners. And your wife outranks you.”

Kira laughs, suddenly, and even Miles looks more cheerful at the prospect of having Keiko at his side to endure it. Julian stops for a minute on the threshold of the turbolift and says, “Partners?”

*

It’s a four-course dinner with a different fork for every course. The ambassadors from Vulcan, Tellar, Andoria and Denobula are polished and well-turned out despite their obvious fatigue; they’re in transit from Earth for the dissolution of the Federation Council and are breaking their journey at Deep Space Nine. The silence over the starter is only made more awkward by the fact the ambassador from Betazed has pleaded exhaustion and retreated in favour of a quiet dinner with Odo.

But they’re all diplomats, in their way. “I understand you have unique medical challenges on board the station,” says the Vulcan ambassador to Julian’s left; he lays down his fork and starts talking about being equipped to deal with the medical problems of many species. He mentions the synthesis of unusual drugs where the replicators aren’t programmed to handle them, which brings Keiko into the conversation, talking about the small team of medical botanists on the station; and on his right side, it turns out the ambassador from Trill knew Emony Dax, so Jadzia is reminiscing animatedly and Worf at least has stopped giving everyone a death glare. By the time they move onto the next course, it’s still quite stilted, but Sisko can’t complain of their embarrassing him. 

By the dessert course, Julian is even - almost - enjoying himself. Somehow they’ve got on to talking about genetic transmission of human disease, with a pause for Keiko to explain to the Andorian ambassador how the history of genetics on Earth begins with Gregor Mendel and his pea plants, and although Julian knows the story, he hasn’t heard it told with the wit and obvious enthusiasm that Keiko tells it. And then Ambassador Talla turns to Julian and says, “Ah, I understand. If you had children, Doctor, their eyes could not be blue.”

"Depending on who he had them with, possibly they could," Keiko says, and explains it.

Talla smiles in response and says, “Well, you must hurry up and marry, Doctor. On Andoria” - her antennae shift backwards - “you would have long since.”

Andorians place a great deal of importance on family, Julian remembers, and their quadilateral marriages take such work to arrange that most Andorians start on the project when still young, by human standards. “How do you know I’m not?” he asks, playfully, and then realises the answer to his own question.

Dessert is raspberries and cream, with Vulcan mint as a garnish. Julian doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he would. When Keiko reaches over to top up his glass, he doesn’t say no.

*

It’s late at night when Julian makes his way down to the promenade from the upper level. There’s enough alcohol in his bloodstream to make him sway slightly, his hands coming up for the railings then back to his sides, with the single light still burning below blurring in his vision. He rights himself with ease, carries on across to the shop, noting vaguely that even Quark’s is closed, with only a few shadowy figures in the distance closing everything for the night.

Inside, Garak is sewing by hand, taking up the hem of a Bajoran child’s skirt, surrounded by a pool of soft light, yellowish like kerosene. He glances up as Julian comes in and closes the shutters, then goes back to the needle. “How was the ambassadors’ dinner?”

"Fine. Boring." Julian walks across the room, then turns, then goes back. "Does it matter?"

"I suppose not.’ Garak glances up at him. "I had thought to make a polite enquiry about your enjoyment of your evening. Forgive me if it was unwelcome."

His voice drips irony. Julian lifts his hands above his head, clasps them, lets them drop. “Sisko made us wear our dress uniforms, Jadzia was charming, I ended up talking about human eugenics to a busybody from Andoria. Does it matter, Garak? Does anything?”

Garak lays down his needle with deliberation, and looks up. “Julian. What is it?”

He doesn’t often give Julian his name like that, sincere and soft-lit like this is. Julian just stands there for a moment, his hands dropped to his sides, and Garak pushes his advantage. “You came to me. You” - and now he’s standing up, too, tension rising into his sinews - “always come to me. What do you _want_ , Julian? Because…”

"Fuck me," Julian says, with everything draining out of him suddenly, getting down to his knees in the middle of the shop. "Just - fuck me, or have me, or whatever you want to do to me. Just do it."

Garak says nothing for a moment, then very carefully gets down on his knees beside Julian, lifting his chin so they’re eye to eye. “What happened?” he asks, again.

"Nothing," Julian tells him, "nothing, nothing. I went to a party. I probably drank too much. I went to a party on my own and drank too much and my best friend in the universe is married to a beautiful woman who spent all evening talking about Federation legislation prohibiting human genetic engineering and everyone had a gay old time."

Garak sits back on his heels. “I don’t understand.”

"Don’t you see?" Julian asks him, bleakly. "This is all there is, Garak." He waves a hand at the darkened shop, the single light. "This is it. I can’t - I mean, you might as well. Eat me alive. It’s what Cardassians are for."

"In the morning," Garak murmurs delicately, "I will remind you that you said that, and you will apologise. Right now…"

He sighs heavily, stands up, and holds out a hand for Julian to get up, too. “I’ve no intention of going out to the habitat ring at this hour. I have three bridesmaids’ dresses to alter before the morning. Come on.”

Julian thinks, as he’s laid down on the long couch, and covered with a rough blanket that smells like dust and new growth, that Garak probably kisses him very gently on the top of his head, although that might be part of the dream, fading away like the single light, and the steady in-out, in-out of Garak’s breathing, and the needle.


End file.
